


You Must Be Lyft-Taken

by Wintertree



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Mistaken Identity, References to Addiction, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 00:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8230285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintertree/pseuds/Wintertree
Summary: Cullen rushed to the car and jumped in. “Going to Chargers on Sanchez, yes?”The driver jumped a bit in surprise, dropping his phone onto his lap before turning around to look at Cullen. “Uh, yeah, actually.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dragonflies_and_Katydids](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonflies_and_Katydids/gifts).



> as ALWAYS! much love to my biggest bestest & brightest friends, sarah & amy
> 
> modern au & bull doesn't have horns. just wanted to save you the trouble of trying to figure out the physics of getting that big ole rack into a car

He was a dead man.

Cullen opened the Lyft app, furiously trying to refresh the page on the quiet street corner. He cursed himself. Cullen was more used to Uber, but after his seventh flyer in the mail about getting a new user’s $50 credit, he gave in. Except now the damn thing kept freezing and the pin jumped all over the place. He’d just cancel the request and place a new one, but the point of downloading the new app was to save money, not get a cancellation fee.

Usually Cullen preferred to take the train, but it was after eight and the bar was apparently in the most perfectly inopportune spot. It wasn’t that far from his apartment in a car, unless you were a mess of an adult like Cullen was and it was nearly fifty minutes and three transfers away. Absently, he touched his back pocket.

Fuck. His wallet. He must have left it on the counter. Glancing around, his ride was still nowhere to be seen. Deciding to risk it, Cullen rushed quickly back into the building, single-mindedly sprinting up three flights of stairs and nearly dropping his keys in a fumbled attempt to open the lock. He snatched his wallet from the kitchen and booked it out of the apartment.

Locking the door again, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

> _dude where tf are you!!! sera’s getting antsy_
> 
> _i had to tell varric to help me keep her here_
> 
> _she keeps wanting to go home and make out & tbh i don’t know how much longer I can hold out._

_Sorry – coming!_ Cullen typed back, guilt at being a selfish friend tightening his chest. He jumped down the remaining flights of stairs, wheezing slightly. He was too damn old to deal with this. At the bottom, he received a text back from Adaar containing a collection of eggplants.

He briefly glanced at the time and grimaced. He was a _dead_ man _._

Cullen burst out of the building, wildly scanning the street, and— there it was. Cullen finally saw his ride idling by the curb. It was hard to miss it, since _it_ was a hot pink Jeep Wrangler. Still, he was so relieved he wanted to cry.

Cullen rushed to the car and jumped in. “Going to Chargers on Sanchez, yes?”

The driver jumped a bit in surprise, dropping his phone onto his lap before turning around to look at Cullen. “Uh, yeah, actually.”

“Great, I’ve been waiting for ages,” Cullen said. He yanked too hard on the seat belt and it locked up about a foot from the buckle. Frustrated, he let the belt recede all the way before deliberately pulling it around his waist to fasten it. “As fast as you can, please. I’m already late enough as is.”

“...Okay.” The guy blinked his eyes – _eye_ , now that Cullen took a good look at him, he had no idea how he missed the matte black eye patch – but made no move to drive.

“ _Please_ ,” Cullen begged, horrified to feel his eyes prickling.

Thankfully, the driver nodded and put the car into drive, peeling away from the curb.

Cullen slumped in the seat and tried to slow his breathing, using the tricks Cassandra practiced with him. Four, seven, eight. In, hold, out.

“You okay there, boss?” Cullen opened his eyes, not remembering when he shut them.

Cullen sighed and rubbed his temples. “Just hate being late.”

“Ha, wouldn’t want that.” No, he wouldn’t. He was one of Adaar’s first friends in Fereldan, a chance meeting soon after she moved to a new city, and he always felt oddly protective of her. She had her own life now – and apparently about to gain a wife – but he was proud of how much she accomplished, even if he sometimes regretted ever introducing her to Varric, the bastard. The two of them were thick as thieves these days, especially after Varric asked her to direct his script.

“You thirsty?” The driver reached over at a stoplight to toss something back at him. Turning it over in his hands, Cullen saw it was a small box of apple juice, proudly proclaiming to be 100% fruit drink. The “drink” part was vaguely suspicious, but Cullen pierced the top with a straw and drank it anyways as something to keep his nervous hands busy. The driver had a shaved smooth head and a bulky frame, a tight black shirt stretched thin across his wide shoulders. He looked a bit familiar, but Cullen couldn’t place him.

Cullen racked his brain to remember what the app said the driver’s name was, unwilling to deal with his phone for the time being. "Thanks, Eric." He took another sip of the apple juice. It was a bit chemical tasting, but otherwise good. Andraste bless Lyfts. They were overall more expensive, but at least they were always more stocked than Ubers.

"Er, I go by The Iron Bull – long story," the driver said, "but go ahead and call me just 'Bull,’ everyone does eventually."

"Right. Bull." Cullen sent a quick _On my way!_ text. He quickly closed the phone, too anxious to read any of the other notifications. He briefly saw he received something from Varric, but passed on opening that can of worms until later.

"So… late for a date?"

"The opposite, actually. Well, not actually the opposite," Cullen took a breath and unclenched the fist that was squeezing the juice box enough to spill onto his jeans. "Sorry. What I mean to say is that my best friend’s proposing to her girlfriend tonight, and if I miss it, I might as well fake my death and escape to Tevinter."

"Damn, congrats. On the engagement thing, not the move to Tevinter."

His tone was pleasant, but Cullen still felt awkward. This “Bull” might be stranger, but he didn’t want to come off like a flakey friend. "I didn't know, of course. She told everyone she was throwing another wrap party and I was just going to quietly sit it out."

"Not one for parties?"

Just not one for bars. "Yes, something like that." He toyed with the sobriety coin in his pocket. A bit of resentment flitted through him, but he let it go. It was her night, not his, and she never guilted him into going out before.

"Can't have you miss something like that. Hold tight, boss, this might get a little hairy." He weaved quickly yet smoothly through the cars and made a sharp right, cutting up a narrow side street.

Bull sped down the road, then up it as it started to get windier and windier. Cullen gripped the seat in front of him. The Jeep rattled as it braked to a harsh stop as someone whipped around a corner and drove past them, a hair away from hitting.

Cullen cursed, but Bull just laughed as the Jeep took off again with a squeal of rubber. "This shortcut should buy us some time, maybe a cool two minutes or so." Despite himself, a laugh bubbled up in Cullen’s chest as well. “So, any significance to popping the question at Chargers?”

“It’s where they met. She needed some gory special effects for the film and Sera is pretty much the queen of bodily fluids and– oh Maker, you know what I mean,” Cullen sighed over Bull’s rumbling chuckle. “Anyways, they hadn’t officially met until location scouting the bar, and one thing led to another and now here we are.”

Bull made a soft popping “oh” noise.

"It was supposed to be a secret, you know. She wanted it to be a surprise. Adaar – my friend – wasn't, ah, keen on what was making me busy tonight," Cullen blurted out. He relaxed his hold on the chair as he finally saw a well lit main street up ahead.

"Too busy washing your hair?"

Cullen let out a strangled laugh as they almost clipped a mailbox. "Worse. Spreadsheets."

Bull pulled to a stop at the red light and shifted to look back at him, muscles rippling under the tight shirt. "Run that one past me again?”

Cullen could see a hint of stubble growing in, but his many scars gleamed through. Maker, he was handsome. "Adaar directed an indie film written by another friend of mine." Why was he blushing? "It's all self financed, and they need some extra help for the little things."

"Ooh, you a producer?" Finally, _finally_ , the light changed and Bull dutifully turned his attention back to the road. Cullen still felt hot and prickly, even now that he was no longer pinned by Bull’s heavy gaze. He sucked on the straw, emptying the box.

"Er, not really. I'm helping them send to festivals and hopefully get distributed, but nothing too official. It was just a document to keep deadlines and expenses organized."

"Well it must be one intense spreadsheet."

"Well, yes, actually. I mean, if you're interested." Cullen knew Bull was just being polite and definitely wasn't, but he was proud of it and wanted to brag, so. "I’ve got columns for the festival, the site to submit, the date of the next deadline, last deadline, corresponding fees, etc. I also have a formula to calculate how much funds you have left. Oh! I don't know if you know this, but you can make a selection be 'filtered' to automatically sort by the different columns." Cullen wound down, embarrassment overtaking pride. "Anyways, I was just finishing up color coding when she called me up and chewed me out for not already being at the bar."

"Mmm," said Bull, "See, I need shit like that. My boys all poke fun at me for being 'uncool' with technology."

“No, I really am horrible with computers and social media and all, I just find formatting relaxing.” Cullen glanced at the crushed apple juice box in his hand. Ah. A spike of – what? disappointment? – flashed through him. "So, Bull, how many children do you have?"

Bull reached over to change gears and Cullen inwardly cursed himself for searching for a ring. He couldn't see one, but Bull was missing a couple fingers, so for all he knew he was married and chose not to wear jewelry. Not that he cared. Or that he’d do anything with that information. Bull was still technically a stranger, and it was his job to be friendly and affable. Cullen hated it when contractors would come into his office and flirt with his assistant, not noticing (or caring) her polite smile was forced.

But Bull just roared out a laugh. "No, no rugrats for me. Sorry, my 'boys' are just my crew. Don’t get me wrong, they're twerps and sometimes I feel like I'm changing their diapers every day, you know? But not actually my kids."

"Ah, sorry. I assumed." Bull waved his apology away with a hand. "It’s just the juice and, well."

"Oh, yeah." Bull sheepishly rubbed his jaw, and _Maker_ , Cullen could hear the rough rasp of it. "I just... really like snacks."

Cullen snorted. "My type of man."

"Yeah? That right?" They pulled up to a stop sign and Cullen looked into the mirror. Bull was staring back at him. His heart did a double beat, but it borderlined on too intense. Slowly, very slowly, the eye closed and opened.

Cullen closed his mouth, realizing he had been gaping unattractively like a fish. "Was that a wink? You can’t wink with one eye."

“Hey, you said it, not me.” Bull continued to hold eye contact, a wolfish grin spreading across his face.

A car honked behind them.

"Yeah yeah, I hear you." Bull broke their strange, electric staring contest and waved his hand in apology out the window. Cullen took advantage of Bull focusing back on the street to hide his own answering grin and flushed cheeks behind his hand.

"So, Bull, tell me about 'the boys,'" Cullen asked.

Bull chuckled. "They're good. Like I said, a bunch of twerps, but we all go way back."

"Friends from home?"

"Nope." Bull popped the the “p” sound. "Don’t really keep in touch with anyone from home anymore. It’s more that I kinda suck at the whole boss thing, always getting too invested." He flipped down the sun blinder and pulled out a picture pinned inside. "Here."

Cullen took the photo. It was almost lovingly wrinkled and earmarked. Bull was shirtless and shoeless, wearing only hideously purple cargo shorts and a knee brace. He's grinning big enough to break his face and pulling a smaller guy with an undercut into a headlock. The guy’s a bit blurry, obviously trying to pull out of the hold while the picture was taken. It seemed to be some type of picnic, Bull surrounded by similarly blurry assorted crew of people, all laughing and climbing on top of each other.

“I’m sure your friend appreciated this, hm, hug?”

“Please, Krem loves ‘em, he’s just playing hard to get.”

“Krem?” Cullen gingerly passed the picture back, not wanting to mark it. Bull secured it back in place, a fond expression softening his craggy face.

“Yeah. He’s been around for a long while, played nurse for me after I got banged up. He’s no longer in the service, another long story, but we’re still tight.”

“Sounds like a good guy.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a couple beats. Cullen racked his brain, trying to find something to strike up the conversation again. The streets were starting to look recognizable, so he knew they were going to arrive shortly.

"So, do you Lyft on the side?"

"Uh." Bull smoothly changes lanes. "Yeah, kinda."

"Cool." _Cool_. He's an idiot. And officially out of things to say.

Bull hummed.

They sat in silence a couple more seconds before Bull cleared his throat. "So, what do you do, boss?"

"Urban planning," Cullen said, "and, call me Cullen. No long story there."

"Alright, Cullen No Long Story There."

Cullen groaned. "Really?"

"Hey, man, for all I know that’s what it says on the birth certificate, parents are weird."

"Mine are weirdly normal. Golden retriever, two-point-five kids, picket fence."

"You the point-five?"

"No, that would be Mia. Half sister, half mother-hen." Bull chuckled and Cullen hid a grin into his shoulder again, absurdly pleased his joke landed. It's one he's kept in his back pocket since college, but at least he can always trust himself to land the punch line. "How about you?"

Bull opened his mouth to speak but Cullen interrupted him. "Right, don't keep in touch, you said, sorry."

"Sorta. Grew up an army brat," Bull said, cutting off Cullen's rambling. "We haven't really kept in touch since I called it quits." Cullen made an encouraging noise, or so he hoped. "My squad got hit by an IED and I got pulled out of active duty. They kept me around as a pencil pusher, of sorts."

"Not the life for you?"

"Nah, I mean, I enjoyed the desk too, I could always find something to keep myself entertained and useful. I was good at it. Plus, it gave me time to touch base with some grunts and contractors I liked working with." Bull snorted. "Don't want to be a cliché, but long story short and classified, they wanted me to do something I didn't feel was kosher and I left on bad terms. What about you? Still military?" Bull briefly flicked his eye to Cullen through the mirror.

"Uh," Cullen said, startled.

“Sorry, you just hold yourself like a soldier.”

“No, it’s alright.” Cullen clenched the coin in his pocket with his free hand. "I used to be a lieutenant commander, but not for a while now. I... also left on bad terms." Cullen thought of the empty bottle of painkillers he kept on his desk since he came back to the States, a reminder and a warning. Adaar told him it was a bleak thing to keep, but some days Cullen found it more comforting than the coin.

Bull let out a low whistle. "Impressive, though. You can't be over forty."

"Not really, I joined young." Cullen flushed. "I, uh, actually tried to drop out of high school and enlist on my eighteenth birthday."

"Ha! How did your sister-hen take that?"

"Poorly." Mia played hooky from school to track him down and drag him by the ear in front of his parents. She used to ditch school all the time, but of course took serious offensive of his small rebellion, noble or not.

Bull chuckled and Cullen found himself staring at his profile again. The man really was quite handsome. Maybe going out tonight would be a good thing. Cullen had been avoiding others as of late, and _perhaps_ Varric was right to tease him for being a shut in. He felt practically buzzing, giddy and oddly alarmed how comfortable he felt. Bull must definitely flirt with all his passengers like this, but he was good enough at it that Cullen found it hard to take offensive. Definitely a five star rating on the trip. Maybe he'll leave a tip. Was that with Uber, or Lyft? He could never remember.

“So, Bull–”

“Here we are,” Bull said, smoothly pulling up in front of the bar. Cullen blinked, surprised he hadn’t noticed how close they were to Chargers. He never stepped foot into the bar before, but he had seen it before in post. “Sorry, you were saying something?”

“Ah, no, it’s fine, thank you.” Cullen swallowed, suddenly awkward. He clicked open his belt and tripped as he made his way out of the car door. He could ask for Bull’s number. Could he?

“Take it easy, boss.”

Cullen hesitated, cheeks smarting. No, he couldn't. It'd be inappropriate. He wanted to say something, anything, but instead he was just standing there holding the door open like an idiot. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Thanks again–“

“Cullen, listen–“

“Oh, sorry,” Cullen said. “Didn’t mean to talk over you. But yes, thank you again. For the ride.”

“It’s no problem. Uh.” Bull scratched his temple. Maker, Cullen should just go inside, he was making him uncomfortable. “Listen, I kinda need to tell you something–”

Lively bar noises flooded into the street as the door opened. “Curly! We thought you weren’t coming.”

“I _did_ text Adaar that I was on my way, Varric,” Cullen complained, facing his friend. He had some fancy micro brew and was obviously already tipsy, flyaway hairs escaping from a messy ponytail.

“Ha! In Cullen-speak, that means arriving after the party’s dead to help clean up and– wait a minute, Tiny? That you?”

Confused, Cullen turned around to follow Varric’s gaze. Bull rolled down the passenger window and gave a little wave.

“You two know each other?” Cullen asked, closing his door.

Varric looked at him like him he was a particularly thick nug. “Uh, yeah. That’s Bull.” Was that supposed to mean something to him?

The phone vibrated _again_ and Cullen ripped the damn thing from his pocket. There were a couple texts from Adaar, another from Cassandra, and–

“Maker’s Breath,” Cullen said, horrified.

He thrust his phone through the window to show Bull the text notification: 

> _Uh oh! Your Lyft driver waited five minutes and tried contacting you. A $5 no-show fee has been applied to your account._

Bull winced. “Cullen, I’m so sorry, I wanted to tell you.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Varric sounded too damn amused.

“It’s nothing,” Cullen said hurriedly. Andraste, no _wonder_ he was so surprised when Cullen jumped in the back. Bull probably thought he was being carjacked. Cullen had been so panicked, he just barged on ahead without thinking clearly and made a horrible assumption. Like always. Desperately, Cullen wished the ground would swallow him up.

“You seemed so stressed and needed a ride, and I was kinda confused at first ‘cause I was coming here anyways...”

“Coming here… for Adaar’s party?” Cullen’s head pounded.

“Uh, not exactly?”

“Cullen,” Varric jumped in, “Tiny’s an old friend of mine. He's the guy who owns Chargers and let us film here for cheap.”

“This is your _bar_?” Cullen purposefully hid from getting roped into helping pre-production, but it was all coming back to bite him on the ass.

“Yeah, I was about to go to work and was answering a couple emails before taking off,” Bull said, flashing Cullen a nervous smile. “She asked me if I was covering a shift tonight, but I didn’t know Herah was going to propose.” Maker, Bull was even on first-name-basis with Adaar! “Again, I’m really sorry. I think we, uh, are actually neighbors? I live in 23B and I’ve seen you around once or twice.”

“I would have thought I’d recognize even the car.” Cullen wanted to stuff the words right back in his mouth. Why was he even focusing on that.

“Oh yeah, baby’s new,” Bull said, stroking the Jeep suggestively and effectively killing any remaining sentient thought Cullen had. He was aware of Varric giggling behind him. Maker be damned, he was officially the most obtuse man in Fereldan. Someday this would become a funny story, but for now Cullen just felt weary.

Bull must have seen something in his face, because he gentled his voice. “Hey. I’m truly, genuinely sorry. I should have corrected your mistake immediately. Can I buy you a beer? To make up for it? If you’re uncomfortable, I can just make myself scarce, no hard feelings.”

“Well, so,” Cullen said, inanely. Bull’s eye was clear and bright, and even from his distance he could see how thick his thighs were. Fuck it. There was no way he could appear more of an idiot. “If anyone’s buying anyone drinks, it should be me, I was the one who accosted you. And I don’t drink beer, but I do drink coffee.”

For a second Bull looked shocked, but he recovered and leaned closer to the window. “Mm, you do, do you?” Bull rumbled.

“Yes. Er, well, no, but, kinda of, yes. Maker.” Cullen ignored Varric snickering behind him, his neck hot with the embarrassment of being watched. “I don’t actually _like_ coffee, but I’d like to buy _you_ one.”

“Sounds perfect, as long as I’m allowed to get you tea. Or even blow the bank for a cold glass of milk?” Bull teased. Cullen laughed, chest still tight.

“Sounds like a deal, Bull. Although we might as well order our own drinks, if it’s going to come out to a net zero anyways.”

“Ha, but where's the romance in that, Mr. Not A Long Story?”

Cullen snorted, glad the terrible and still unfunny joke was easing some of the tension out of his chest. “Go park.”

“See you inside, don’t want you missing your friend’s big moment.” He gave Cullen another one of his impossible slow winks. “I’ll be the hot tall one behind the bar.” With a mock salute, he inched the jeep away from the curb to turn down an alley to the back lot.

Bull finally out of sight, Cullen rubbed his face, remembering at the last second he was still holding the empty juice box. Breathe, Cullen. Four, seven, eight. It was so _silly_ but he couldn’t help but feel endeared by Bull’s relaxed nature and almost unending friendliness.

He turned to Varric and nearly groaned at his shit-eating grin. “So, did I miss it?”

“Oh no, no, _no_ , we’re not changing the subject,” Varric said, practically hopping with evil glee. “That was the single most awkward and _adorable_ thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

“Varric, please, its Adaar’s night, right? You don’t need to distract everyone with how I hitched a ride to the bar.” Cullen hated the edge of desperation he heard in his voice.

Varric sobered, scrutinizing Cullen. After a moment, Varric sighed and smiled at him warmly. He reached out with his big, calloused hand and squeezed him firmly, but gently, on the arm.

“I’m gonna go tell Cassandra.” Far more agile than his stout build indicated, Varric sprinted into the bar.

“You’re a dead man, Varric!” Cullen roared, chasing after his friend through helpless laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Cullen technically has two sisters and a brother (thanks DragonageWiki, you are my most precious lover), but I’m gonna handwave that bit away bc I wrote Cullen’s joke on the train and I’m reluctant to let go of that nugget of pure genius comedy. Also I wrote about 80% of this and realized that despite greatly preferring past tense, I automatically write in present out of habit and promptly pulled all my hair out. Thanks, brain. But more importantly, thank you AGAIN! my lovely lovely betas & cherished friends, Sarah and Amy. Ur both troopers & beautiful souls. I love you dudes.
> 
> So, a quite a bit of this is inspired by my first month in LA without a car (help) and trying to do the whole new-city-new-me shuffle (not above groveling if anyone needs an assistant on a development/production desk). If I had infinite money (please help me get a job) (I’m serious) I’d take Uber/Lyft everywhere, I love how friendly and ambitious the drivers are. I always have the most fulfilling stranger-conversations with them. Lyft _is_ more expensive on average, unless you get those $5 off per rides credits (Google it for the promo code), but they do have more snacks and chargers. I'd never lie to you guys. Except about the military record stuff — I have no fucking clue what I'm talking about.
> 
> It’s also both gifted to and inspired by the lovely **Dragonflies-and-Katydids** , whose posts motivated me to sign up for the exchange. And also that pairing spreadsheet?? Listen, that changed my life. I never knew you could use filters like that to make things automatically reorganize or hide cells and I haven’t stopped screaming since. I love spreadsheets and formatting, and that festival spreadsheet Cullen brags about? It’s real. I made it. If anyone is dealing with the awful challenge of submitting their film to festival, or need help tracking similar submission fees/deadlines, hmu and I’ll send you the link. It’s truly my crown jewel and I keep shoving it down all my friends’ throats. I even got a special thanks when I gave it to my boss.
> 
> Seriously.
> 
> Let me know if you want it.


End file.
